


sincerety of the stars (sincerety of black holes)

by selenicsoulmates



Series: “There is no point in using the word 'impossible' to describe something that has clearly happened.” Or, how the clueless Marco Diaz fell in love with Star Butterfly [2]
Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: F/M, Gen, also this is OBNOXIOUSLY long, ball fic, basically the ball fic no one wanted but i decided to shove it in your faces anyway, jealousy fic, so annoying, the ball fic i have been screaming about for a WEEK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenicsoulmates/pseuds/selenicsoulmates
Summary: At Mewni's Ball, to celebrate the defeat of Toffee, Marco envelops himself in the misery of watching his best friend escorted onto the dancefloor, and the confusing feeling that builds inside every time she dances with someone that isn't him.





	sincerety of the stars (sincerety of black holes)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveandwar007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandwar007/gifts), [radiowrittenheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiowrittenheart/gifts).



> So, if you read "now there’s no place else I could be but here in your arms," you'll notice Marco listed several key moments that had him realize he has feelings for Star. 
> 
> And now, without further ado, I give you those moments, worked backwards from his realization to his absolute cluelessness, so you can get the full Marco-in-denial experience. 
> 
> This one is for my lovelies Jo and Rea, who have tolerated me screaming about this idea for well over a week. Guys, it better be worth it. Also, cross your fingers for the ball episode and my third eye.

Marco’s not huge on dances.

Sure, he’ll go to a few, but his luck has never been great with them. The Blood Moon Ball is a pretty good example – a party he essentially snuck into (Star claims he “crashed it” – which is false) and then was almost burned to death by his best friend’s date. And while dancing with her under a shimmering red light was…different, to say the least, and it resonated with him strongly, it still didn’t go well (considering, again, he almost died). The Echo Creek Formal is another instance, too, which he and Jackie ditched anyway only to interrupt their date by saving his best friend in a grave yard battle.

So, it’s not surprising that he’s not having the time of his life at Mewni’s Celebratory Ball. A ball hosted to rejoice in the defeat of Toffee - who had wreaked havoc on the Kingdom for two generations, and to celebrate the reclamation of Mewni. The celebration took a while to make, of course – the Kingdom itself needed three weeks to fully repair itself, street-widening and rebuilding and all, and that was memorialized too. Though, a majority of the spotlight was on the young princess, center of all the attention from commoners and nobles alike, but especially his own.

Marco had been casually talking with Kelly, Tad, Tom, and Janna when she was being announced into the throne room. A harp played, violinists strummed along to a beat as she stepped through the doors, calm and graceful, a sound so unlike Star Butterfly that it was almost comical. Almost.

Because he caught sight of her as she held her gown in her hands and lifted her eyes to greet her people, and it was like time slowed to a near halt.

Her hair was half tied up, ribbons popping out and keeping it all in place. And a dress he’s never seen her in before – long and pink and off the shoulder – twirled around her and moved almost on its own. And her own crown, with a heart at its center, completed the look. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, with gasps filling the room that agreed to his silent declaration.

It’s been hard lately; identifying the feeling in his chest whenever he sees her - where it feels like his lungs fill with air and capsize, then rise up and bubble into his throat until it’s stuck there. It’s happened at the most random of times: when she’s laughed at something he’s said, or when she’s smiled at him over the royal dining table over a plate of creamed corn, or even when she was just shooting narwhals out of her wand in the courtyard. It freaks him out, because he’s never really felt that before. Sure, he’s crushed on the same girl for years, but that sensation was always the same – flushed cheeks, sweaty palms, a quicker heartbeat…he’s always been able to tell.

He knew it with Jackie, because Jackie had been a constant feeling. And it never really changed. Until a few weeks ago, when his thoughts were always sidetracked, and that blush he was always accompanied with when she was around reserved itself, as if it was waiting for someone else.

(Even when they ended things, his heart and his head were calm. No dramatic fights, no tears shed, no stutter on his lip or sweat on the back of his neck. Just a hug that felt like the introduction of a new friend and a whisper of luck and a promise to be cool with one another at the end).

But this? It was different. He wasn’t sure what it was. And now, seeing her glide through the crowd towards the King and Queen, the feeling was even more panning. His mind short-circuits, his skin jumps, and that air that can’t come up and through his mouth jams in his chest until it feels heavy, like he swallowed rocks.

Star Butterfly was stunning, breath-taking, and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Her blue eyes flitted across the room, like she was searching for something. And then they landed on him, and she smiled, lifting a cautious arm to wave at him without it attracting him any attention. He waves back when he remembered he had hands, and his skin jumps in the fabric of his white suit.

Marco really wanted to dance with her. He wanted to waltz with her under a light that radiated off their skin to music that hypnotized the masses. But he doesn’t.

The headache starts when the first person makes it to her before he could.

He doesn’t know why it troubles him so much; it’s a _dance_ , after all, and Star has no moral obligation to dance with only him. To pay attention to only him. He knows that. And can he truly blame the people that want her attention? He most certainly wants to, and there’s a red hot feeling in his stomach that boils up into his mouth, and it feels different than before. He hates it. He hates knowing he’s standing there alone in the middle of the room, watching his best friend be whisked away to the sound of pretty music, and he hates how she looks like she’s enjoying it. He hates the feeling it leaves. He swallowed the sight of a young gentleman bowing down to her and offering his hand, allowed it the power to swell up in his mind until his head pounded, and turned and walked away.

\--

So here he sits, in a blanket of his own disconcerting and conflicted misery, watching her dance with yet _another_ Noble from a faraway corner of the room. The fellow looked to be a member of the Waterfolk Kingdom, whom Star has been quite popular with tonight (a _stupid_ bunch, honestly – well, if you ask him, anyway).

He knew deep down what he’s doing is pretty pathetic; watching his best friend be swept off her feet every few minutes by someone new, and having it annoy him so much but refusing to take his eyes away from her. Plus, he has a collection of table cards he took sitting at his feet now. For every new dance partner she has, he slowly tears a card apart. It’s not comforting in any sort, but it helps…kind of. The headache lingers, though, growing thicker.

“Having trouble there, buddy?”

Tom leans against the pillar Marco’s next to, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. Marco gives him a quick once over from his seat – his red tux has a smudge of yellow on it. Buttered corn, probably. He doesn’t give him any more attention than that, turning back to his project of safely projecting his annoyance with card-tearing. He hears the sound of a chair dragging across the floor and being placed where Tom previously stood.

“Y’know,” Tom starts, crossing his arms over the back of the chair, “my life coach is somewhere by the food; he met some guy and they’re really hitting it off.” His eyes slide away from the dancefloor to his friend, sitting in a hunched heap of obvious jealously. “But if you need to get some anger off your chest, I can go grab him for you.”

“I don’t need to talk to Brian,” Marco grumbles. “I’m fine.”

“Oh yeah, _sure_. _Sure_ you are, bud,” Tom says, sarcasm dripping off his tongue like molten lava. He chuckles, taking some of Marco’s handiwork off the floor. “So what’s this?”

Marco glares at him from the corner of his eye, then reaches over to snatch the papers in Tom’s palm. He splits them a bit more. “I’m ripping these cards apart.”

“Because Star’s being flirted with left and right, correct? And it bothers you?”

He tears the pieces apart a little more aggressively, eyes downcast and watching as the papers fall to the floor. “No.”

"Pony Head has this nickname for you: 'Earth Turd?'” Marco groans, sinking into his chair further. “Yeah, that. Well, to me you're kinda acting like an Earth Turd."

"Thanks, Tom. Have you ever considered taking Mr. Candle's job and being a school psychologist?"

“Oh, I’d be terrible at that,” Tom ignores the judgmental snort from his friend. “But you’re a mess dude. And you need a wakeup call – fast.”

“There’s honestly no reason for you to be here,” Marco remarks, finally looking up at his friend. Tom stares back at him, hard, eyes slanted and disapproving. “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t wanna dance, I rather just be over here and watch. So why don’t you go have fun and leave me alone?”

“Dude…” The demon attempts to keep his frustration at bay, but Marco was freaking _annoying._ He didn’t know how much more of this self-pity he could take before he ended up tossing him into the Lake of Fire. “What are you _doing_?”

“We went over this,” Marco, exasperated, throws a hand out towards the pile of what used to be table assignments. “I’m ripping things. I’m having a great time.” He wasn’t. He slouches over, digging his elbows into his knees and resting his head on his hands. Taking a peak up across the dancefloor, he notices Star now being offered a flower from what seemed to be a countess of some sort, and her ecstatic expression as she takes it makes him want to barf.

"I mean," Tom groans, picking up a littered piece of paper. "What are you doing about _Star_?"

"What are you talking about?”

“Oh my Underworld,” Tom drops the paper, pinching the bridge of his long nose. “You’re not seriously that idiotic, are you?”

Marco sighs, ceasing the tears of his current victim (table eighteen, in italicized gold pen that sparkles almost mockingly). “Look, Tom –”

“Why are you just sitting here?” He accuses. “Why aren’t you asking her to dance, or asking her out in general?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Didn’t you and Jackie break up a few weeks ago?” Tom asks. Marco’s neck kinks at the sudden, fast pace he lifts his head at. “Why aren’t you and Star talking about what she told you before she left Earth? Or about how you feel about her?”

"How do you know Jackie and I broke up?" He focuses on the first question, the most important question that Tom should have _zero idea about_.

"Jackie told Janna, who told me," Tom rolls all three of his red eyes, as if the answer is so obvious.

“Does Star know?”

“No, Star doesn’t know,” Tom responds. “Why the heck would she know?”

“Well, _you_ know,” Marco’s headache gets heavier, weighing down on him. “And if Janna told _you,_ she could have told, I dunno, _Pony_ _Head_ , and –”

"If Pony Head knew, everyone would know," Tom affirms. “Can you chill out? Star doesn’t know, okay?”

“Good,” Marco replies, settling back into his chair comfortably. “I’d like to keep it that way.”

"You should tell her, though,” Tom insists. His already small tolerance for patience is shortening. “I don’t know why it’d be such a problem for her to know.”

"It's not on my agenda to bother her with it."

"You two broke up for a reason," Tom explains shortly, as if Marco actually needs to hear it. He doesn’t, he’d love to remind his friend, and he’d much rather stuff the torn parchment up his nose instead. "Are you seriously gonna try telling me that it isn't because you like Star?"

Marco goes back to ripping table eighteen's card. "I don't 'like' Star. She's my best friend."

"You've been swimming in a lava pool of denial for weeks. Aren't you over it already?" He gestures to where Pony Head and Janna laugh along with Tad, sitting comfortably on top of Kelly recounting a story of some sort. "We all are."

"I'm not 'in denial,' Tom," Marco snaps. "I don't know what I feel in regards to Star, okay? Why don't you worry about your own romance-issues?”

"I don't have romance-issues," Tom chortles. "I'm good. I think Janna's cool and I wanna try asking her out soon. I was thinking a picnic on the Dock of Unending Torment," He ignores the snort to his left. "You, on the other hand? You're a wreck."

“Tom –”

"You're literally sitting here moping as Star gets hit on by random strangers,” Tom declares. He reaches over and snatches Marco’s freshly tattered card from his lap. "You've been ripping these things apart for half an hour. You do know people need to know where they're being seated, right?"

“I can’t _like_ Star, alright?” Aggravated, Marco drops his card to the ground, forgotten. He scowls at his friend, or so-called - he was doing a number on his already rotten mood right now and he had a few choice words for him that weren’t in the ‘friend’ category. “I just can’t. Why are all of you constantly throwing this in my face?”

“Dude, what is _wrong_ with you?” Tom boils. “What the heck are you so scared of?”

“I’m not –”

“It’s like you’re scared of your relationship with Star changing,” he throws his hands in the air, like every ounce of sympathy has disappeared from his body. “Newsflash, Diaz – it has already. And it’s not just on her end, it’s on yours’ too. What is your problem anyway? You know she already likes you. You like her too, but you rather sit there in your own self-pity instead of just admit it.

“What are you gonna do if you end up losing her for good?” Tom rises out of his chair, frown deepening. It's almost like fire is licking the edges of his ears, ready to burst. “What then?”

What then? Well the first time that almost happened, Marco shoved his face in oatmeal at three AM and couldn’t stop crying. So, there’s that. He’d like to not think about that week and a half again. And frankly, after everything else that’s happened, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to even _handle_ losing Star again. Losing Star felt exactly like how she left – like a part of himself vanished into thin air, and left a hole where she was supposed to be. Like the night sky was filled with cosmos and colors and billions of stars, and suddenly it’s all dark and black. A boring life, a boring world.

He didn’t want that. Of course he didn’t want that.

But she’s still a princess. She still has a home in an entirely different dimension, and she has a _future_ here. Where does he fit after she accepts that future? An Earth kid with a red belt in Tang Soo Do, with a pretty strong left hook – there’s no place for him here.

What if she can’t even come back home – to his home? After this summer, after everything has settled in Mewni, what is he even supposed to do?

While Marco’s inner thoughts battled, Tom takes a long shake of his head, sighing. It was a fight Marco had already lost, and yet he still sat there in disputed ground. “You gotta figure this stuff out for yourself, Marco.”

Tom quickly stomps away, leaving a flicker of a flame in the air before it burns out. Marco runs his hand through his hair, as if the simple motion will shed away the feeling of dread lodged in the back of his throat. He kinda wants to yell at Tom for being so pushy, but he also knows that nothing that comes out of his mouth will be worth the public fight. And like that flame Tom left behind, his anger has burned out and left a hole of confusion welling at the center of his forehead. He tries to search the dancefloor for Star again, for some semblance of normalcy and, albeit unpleasant, comfort, but even she has disappeared.

_So this ball **sucks**._

He really wants to just slip away from the ball, rip these heavy shoulder tassels off and throw them out the window, and sink into the royally-provided comforter made of silk and thick cotton in his temporary room. And yeah, he wants to stare up at the ceiling and curse the world for a little bit in what would be deemed as self-pity, but that didn’t mean he was _jealous_ because of Star. He can’t be jealous.

_“You gotta figure this stuff out for yourself.”_

If anything, the amount of Nobles and Aristocrats hitting it off with her just solidified the fact that he made no sense in this fancy world of hers. What did Tom know, anyway? He was the future King of the Underworld – he’d never have to worry about being with someone of upper status. Sure, being with Janna of Earth would be a little odd, but unlike him, she fit the bill in Tom’s world almost perfectly. Her strange interest in the occult and the dead would allow her to make Tom’s castle her own personal playground.

Marco didn’t belong on Mewni. He belonged in Miss Skullnick’s AP statistics course. He belonged at the dojo on Saturday afternoons, crushing Jeremy. He belonged in Echo Creek, where he could be the Safe Kid.

But at the same time, there was that churning in his gut that told him while maybe he didn’t fit in with Mewni, he did fit by Star’s side. And whether that was on the couch in his house or in the gardens of Butterfly castle, he should be there for her. Right next to her, supporting her with everything he has. And she him, like she always has.

And -

_Yeah. Of course._

Of course he's scared. He's terrified.

_Terrified of losing Star, terrified of **being** with Star. Geez, I’m pathetic. _

Marco’s head falls into the comfort of his open palms, the weight crushing his knees. Thinking about this was tiring. Thinking about Star was tiring, and he really just wanted it all to _stop_ -

“Hey.”

Marco’s head quickly shoots up to meet the eyes of the girl he’d been ripping things over for the past forty minutes. “Oh. Uh, hey Star.”

Star’s casual smile makes his chest dip in, retreating. He pushes away the feeling, taking a deep breath. _Ignore what Tom said. He’s an idiot. Nothing’s changed._

She gestures to his crumbled and ripped table cards that litter his pantsuit and the floor around him. “Whatcha doing?”

“Um,” He swallows. He picks up two shredded pieces of thick index cards, one from table seven and the other from table sixteen, before folding them over in half. “Origami?”

Her head tilts adorably, earrings jingling. “Ori-who-now?”

“That’s not important,” he brushes the shredded paper off his lap. “I wasn’t really getting anywhere with it anyway.”

“Oh,” she says slowly. “So, you’re like…not busy, then, right?”

“Not at the moment, no.” _Not ever, actually. But **you’ve** been busy, with literally every noble in the fricken **Kingdom**_.

“Well, then, since you have time,” she drawls, before stepping back and pinching the sides of her pink dress in both hands. She gracefully curtseys, bowing her head just a bit with the perfect precision a princess should have before coming back to stand and offering her white-gloved hand towards his motionless form. “May I ask for a dance, Gentleman?”

Six words were all that was needed to flip a switch in Marco’s half melted brain. Suddenly that bitterness that swept through him for the majority of the night doesn’t feel so cold; it’s replaced by a warm feeling that covers him in a cloud and lifts him up, and all he can do is gape at the person who did it.

He doesn’t realize he’s been staring at her for so long until Star’s charming expression becomes confused.

“What?” Star’s hands reach up to cup both her cheeks. “Is there something on my face?”

He snaps out of it then, shaking his head slightly. “Yes,” he says quickly, a short blurt before he blushes. “I mean, no, uh – yes. Yes.”

“‘Yes?’”

“Yes.”

Star twirls a loose strand of blonde hair around her finger nervously. “‘Yes,’ you’ll dance with me? Or ‘yes,’ there’s something on my face?”

He laughs, feeling himself genuinely smile for the first time all night. “Yes, I’ll dance with you. I’d be honored to.”

Her grin stretches from ear to ear, and that feeling comes back – the jump in his chest that’s bursting to come out. Their hands meet half way, but Star is the one that pulls him out of his chair, dizzy in his steps and thighs weak from sitting the whole time, and drags him over to the dancefloor. Star’s hair whips around her when she stops, turns and lifts their jointed hands up. She takes his other arm and guides it around her waist, where Marco allows himself to rest comfortably. Her own arm travels up to his shoulder and holds on, meeting his gaze in giddy delight.

“Sorry it took me so long to come see you,” Star begins stepping along to the rhythm of the music, careful to avoid the other couples waltzing around them. “I wanted to dance with you first, but everyone kinda hounded me.”

“It’s okay. You’re the princess who saved Mewni. Who can blame them?” What surprised him is how casual he is about it in comparison to a few minutes ago. His mood has done a complete 180, and all it took was Star holding onto him and stepping to the sound of violins.

“Yeah, I guess,” she chuckles hesitantly, looking off to the side. “You’re first priority, though.”

“You, uh,” his words catch. “You too?” _Stupid._

Star hums, eyes gazing over his face, and Marco nearly feels uncomfortable. But it’s Star, and it gives him the chance to look at her up close for the first time. Her cheeks are shining more than usual, and her cheek emblems seem to have sparkles dusted at their centers. She’s just like a star – a big, glittery beautiful thing, and he feels like a planet caught on her radar, spinning around her in an orbit known as the waltz.

“So Tom looked pretty mad at you before.”

Marco feels the electricity that cuts off all thinking to his frontal lobe. A lightbulb flickers. That’s…not the topic of conversation he was hoping for. And he didn’t expect her to be _watching him_ that whole time, either. He swallows. “Did he?”

“Yeah,” she says, looking worried. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“Uh,” Marco’s gaze shifts towards table fifteen (or, what he thinks is table fifteen. He doesn’t know which table is which – stealing and destroying those table cards _may_ have been a bad call), where Tom and Janna chat amongst themselves over two glasses. He notices Tom’s face shift towards the two of them, Janna following, and Tom raises an eyebrow. Then, after a moment, he smirks, raising his drink in his direction. “Yeah. He just…doesn’t really understand something. It’s dumb.”

“Oh,” she pauses, clicks her tongue. “You guys are cool, though, right?”

He nods, looking back at her. “I think so.”

“Good,” relief flows off her in waves. “We have enough junk to worry about.”

Well, she did, with her mother and Eclipsa and the Kingdom. He had all the time in the world to be a mess of feelings. It gave him something to do when she was busy training.

“You look really cute, by the way.”

A blink. “Huh?”

“You look cute in shoulder tassels,” she repeats. Her fingers twiddle with the tinges of gold that hang from them, distracting herself. Her cheeks are red. “I’ve told you that before, right?”

“Not that I can recall,” Marco answers. He hates the shoulder tassels, really. The few times he’s worn them have only been for her, because of some sorta stupid status requirement the kingdom had. But they bother him a little less now. Just a little.

“Well, you know Star, you look –”

“Amazing?” Star giggles, an eyebrow raised in expectance. _He’s such a predictable, cute idiot._

“Well, yeah, you do,” He utters. “I was gonna say you look really, really beautiful.” Star’s surprised stare makes his cheeks flush. “You’ve probably heard that all night, though.”

“I have,” Star says, after a pause. Her arm goes further up so that her hand rests comfortably on his shoulder. She smiles simply. “But not from anyone else that matters.”

She takes both of his hands and spins underneath the little bridge they create. She’s taking so much room in their own little world, but somehow it seems that their space has expanded. Star comes back to him with a quick shuffle with wide eyes.

“Plus, you’re like, the best dancer here,” Star gushes. He opens his arm to let her stretch across, then pulls her back into him, catching her by waist. The dress twirls and tangles around his pants suit before fluttering back to her, like butterfly wings. “See?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the ‘best’ dancer,” he corrects. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at anything, really.

“Sure you are! Remember when you taught me that dance they showed on _Fiesta De La Noche_?”

Marco thinks back to a few Thursdays ago, before the mess with Toffee began. She had grabbed the remote from Marco’s lap and, to his displeasure, paused the show. She jumped out of their friendship snuggly, taking her warmth with her, and pointed at the screen, practically begging him to show her what the characters were doing. And he did, though begrudgingly at first, teaching her a few moves until they were tired and tuckered out and laughing at themselves into the late evening. “The salsa?”

“Yes! That one. I love that one,” she lets him twirl her around under his arm, grasping his shoulder tightly when they met again. Her eyes twinkle with delight. “You’re really good at that dance.”

“Thanks,” he fails to mention that, while Star had smashed his feet several times that Friendship Thursday, she was pretty good at it too. A near natural by the time she learned the steps correctly. “This is definitely not the music we’d salsa to, though.”

“Yeah, this kinda music is definitely more…folk-ish,” she agrees. “And old. I should change it.”

“You can do that?”  

“Oh, I _totally_ could. Manfred kinda sucks at DJing, and I’m sure Pony would appreciate the music tempo change,” she takes out her wand, letting the crystal in its center glow. “Dare me to do it?”

“Dare you to do _what_ , Star?”

His hand immediately releases her waist, and Star’s drops back to her side, as if the comment burns them. They jump a few inches apart, but keep their hands interlocked, and Star’s wand hides behind her back. Queen Moon, in bright blue and covered in silver gems observes them quietly, a sleek eye brow raised. She was always the more intimidating of Star’s parents, though he likes to think his relationship with her has improved since he started living in her castle. Marco’d like to keep it that way.

“Oh, uh,” Marco nods quickly, greeting the older woman. “Hey, Queen.”

“Moon is fine, dear,” Star’s mother smiles, nodding in return. “I’m not interrupting anything important, am I?”

“ _Mom_ ,” Star bristles. She blushes, glaring up at her. _We were in **the middle** of something, interrupter, _it reads. Moon clearly gets the hint, looking apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Star. But I do need to borrow you for a second. We have speeches to read, and you’re needed on stage with us.”

“But, Marco and I –”

“It’s okay,” Marco interrupts. His hand is still being held in hers, and he squeezes it gently for reassurance, support she needs. “I can’t have you all to myself, right?”

She pouts, looking back and forth between her mother and her best friend, before sighing, shoulders sagging inward. “Fine.” She stares at him longingly, a sorry etched in her face, while Marco just shrugs and smiles. He can wait – he doesn’t mind. He got his dance, after all, and he wasn’t in nearly such a bad mood. _Maybe Tom was right_. _Maybe I just needed to dance with her._ Star moves backwards, following after her mother but keeping her stare locked on his, but stops. Her hand is still linked in his, holding onto one another and lifted mid-air. He nearly forgot they were holding hands – the feeling almost natural. She glances back and forth between where they're joined and the kind boy who holds her. “Um, save me another dance, okay?”

“I will,” he assures. His hand finally lets go of hers when his arms starches as far as it can, and it slumps back to his side, still tingling. “I promise.”

The feeling is back – the buildup of air caught in his throat and his skin rising on edge as he watches her follow after mother. But it’s not entirely unwelcome this time. It’s scary, but it’s comfortable – if that makes any sense. Like the feeling is natural, but the idea still sets him on edge.

He never saw it coming. He never thought it was real. It hit him a few dozen times and he still didn’t take notice. Seeing her smile made his day brighter. Her laughter was contagious. Spending Thursday nights with a pizza and a DVD brought from his collection back on Earth was the highlight of every week. And the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel – he wonders if that’s how she’s felt these past couple of months; with rocks in her throat and the heavy sensation in her chest pushing her into the ground but never giving hold.

_Maybe everyone’s right._

Whatever that feeling is, the feeling of blockage in this throat, suddenly it opens way and he can breathe again. A heavy sigh follows, and his heart beats just a tad faster, and he feels it and he knows. It’s different, it’s new, and he _knows._

And if that’s what falling in love is, then he’s deep in it already.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for the next one.


End file.
